Caught
by Corelli Sonatas
Summary: (Expect next update before 7 July) Pamuk, before he can proceed with his efforts, falls victim to a scream that sends Robert and Cora into Mary's room on THE night. How will the family react? What will Pamuk do to ensure that he stays out of the picture? Plot twist to Series One, Episode Three.
1. Chapter 1

"Oh God, help me!" screamed the young woman who reeked of fresh, unconcealed fear. Her hands gripped the edges of her blanket, and her feet were frozen in the rough carpet that sank an inch a minute. Her unwelcome guest stared at her, alarmed as ever.

"What are you doing?" shouted Kemal Pamuk, though his voice could hardly surpass a whisper. So suddenly had the night taken a turn for the worse; the man had been entranced at the beautiful woman who veiled herself so weakly from him. She had been so close to conditional capitulation - something Kemal would have found rewarding - but the opposite had just occurred. Lady Mary Crawley had screamed.

"I cannot risk my future in such an unruly manner, Kemal!" argued Mary, finding the courage to defend herself from this dangerously persuasive - dangerously unmarried - man.

Kemal remained a statue in the dim bedroom. Such was not helping his situation; for, as yet another moment transpired, the Earl of Grantham's panicked hands shoved the slightly ajar door open. "What the _hell -?"_ His face turned a violent shade of scarlet when his eyes met the flesh that accompanied his eldest daughter. "How dare you, man! I shall see to it that you are sentenced -"

"Milord, please hear what I have to say," pleaded a desperate Kemal, not the least bit certain as to _what_ he wished so ardently to admit to Robert. "I pose no harm to her ladyship -"

"Perhaps not in your book, Mr. Pamuk, but definitely in mine!" bellowed the outraged father. He was, indeed, assuming the sole position as paternal figure to his poor daughter, who trembled on the sidelines. "I order you to remain here, while I ring for Carson to take Lady Mary away!"

"Papa, please," began Mary, compiling all of her thoughts into those two words. She humbly confessed unto the two men before her, "I apologise for leading Mr. Pamuk to think that I -"

Robert had no patience at this point. "Mary, you are not helping," assured he. "Get yourself away from him! I'll ring for Carson. The police is next, man," he proclaimed, shooting a furious gaze at the stranger.

Mary refused to withdraw herself from her present position. "I cannot allow you to hurt Kemal, not when it was I who put him at your disposal!" She covered her sweat-drenched face in her hands, unable to look at the man who had so adeptly softened her that day. The afternoon hunt, the evening kiss, the nighttime surprise: it had all led _her _on, and for everything to slip from her fingers now - for everything to become _Kemal's _fault - was unbearable.

Of course, Mary could not begin to wonder how an alternative night would have happened; the intimacy between her and Mr. Pamuk would have awakened no one, she presumed, and all would have ended seamlessly. Though that would overlook the chances of the woman falling impure to the Turkish gentleman. God knew whether Mary would have been free from the entire ordeal; a single trip to the doctor could have put her present life to an end._  
_

It was not long before Cora entered through the door. "What on _earth _is going on? Robert?" Cora blurted this before her husband could respond bluntly. She shortly noticed their guest within a dreadfully close proximity to Mary. "Tell me exactly what this is about," she demanded Robert. "Tell me why I heard my daughter scream as if death were near."

It cost Robert a moment to compile all that he wished to relay to his wife. "This man...Mr. Pamuk… He was about to have his way with Mary. Nothing has happened by the look of things."

Had it not been for the present circumstances, Mary could have laughed at her father's assertion. Kemal spoke up after Cora spent seconds on end - wide-eyed and breathless - to digest the situation. Beseeched Kemal: "I beg of you, do not overthink my motives. I will admit that I have unsafely made a move tonight -"

"I'll say!" blurted Cora.

"-but there is a way by which all of us can escape this."

"Man, if you think that I will merely let you go, after you forcibly trap my daughter in an impossible situation…" Robert could not continue. It was too much for the middle-aged man to process everything that could have occurred had Mary not screamed. _I am _still_ at risk, _he reminded himself.

Kemal sensed weakness in the Earl. "If we let this go, milord, Downton has a future."

"I greatly disagree!"

"But if you tell about my misbehaviour, I will see to it that Downton does_ not _have a future. I will fabricate a scandal that never happened, and everyone will trust me because I have -"

"Enough!" interrupted Cora, holding her hand out firmly to stop Kemal. "My daughter will not - under any circumstances - be compelled to face humiliation for such a dishonourable act as your own!" She circled a reasonable distance around the stranger and met her daughter, putting both hands on Mary's shoulders. Averting her vigilant gaze from Pamuk to Robert, Cora pressed: "Ring for Carson. Tell him that we must contact the police immediately."

It was this statement that brought Kemal to the realisation that he was clothed only by a dark-coloured robe, in the presence of the Earl and Countess of Grantham. He was caught. "You will hear about this from the Turkish Embassy," threatened he. But Lord and Lady Grantham did not appear appalled by this threat; they could only focus on the fact that Mary would not later face a racy scandal that, in the future, could have become a detrimental weight on her shoulders.


	2. Chapter 2

Anna had not slept well the previous night. Her ears rung with shouts of anger and protest; though both of these forms had their derivations from different, scratchy voices. One, Anna had recognised from the start, was the voice of his lordship. The other... Oh, how the very _thought _of the other caused her teeth to grit in disgust. That stranger of a man, who had craftily turned Downton upside-down with his seductive ways. And who else had to have fallen victim to his cunning play but poor Lady Mary!

The night's proceeds had won the attention of the entire downstairs staff: first Carson, who had bruised every part of his body so as to constrain his thirsting desire to give the young Pamuk what he had earned. Next to hear of the news was Sara O'Brien, and then Elsie Hughes, shortly followed by the remainder of a rather alarmed staff. Lady Mary's scream had been nothing compared to Lord Grantham's bellows across the grand halls.

Downton's butler had escorted the Turkish diplomat to the front door, where two stunned policemen had been waiting. Cora had retreated to her own room with Mary, and naturally Sybil and Edith had rapped on the door, asking for permission to be let in on the midnight occurrences. "No," Cora had firmly stated in her motherly tone, "there is no need to tire ourselves more tonight. Please go to bed."

After yet another series of Robert's lamentations for inviting a stranger as curious as the Turkish "gentleman", Pamuk had left. Carson had, in a discontented nature, returned downstairs to reveal the upstairs scandal to Mrs. Hughes. Mary had refused to retire to her bedroom, for the sake of the haunting thoughts that she had imagined would arise from her reunion with the cursed, dark room. And that had been the end to the horrendous night.

...

"Lady Mary -"

"Please, Evelyn, there is nothing more for me to tell you," assured the disheveled young woman to the man. Evelyn and Mary were standing in the house's entryway, the ajar door taunting Napier with its welcoming solution to the wretched problem to which he had awakened: _"Leave at once through this door, and be free!" _

Honest man as he was, however, Evelyn could not depart Downton without the comforting assurance that Lady Mary would be all right. Of course, that was an impossible goal. He sighed. "Mary, you do not know how horribly I feel about all of this. If I had known -"

"Of course, Evelyn. If my father had known, before I was born, that I was a girl...he would have rethought having a child." Mary knew that her analogy had been rather awful, but the humble man before her accepted her words.

"All I want to say is that I am sorry," he persisted with her, "and that I will do anything for you if it will put your heart at ease."

"I am certain - though your intentions are kind - that nothing can or will console me at the present. But thank you." She began to turn away from the man, eager to rid herself of masculine presences for once in a long time. How uncomfortable, anxious, and vulnerable it made her feel!

Evelyn had, at this point, given up on Mary altogether. "Very well. I wish you well, and I am dreadfully sorry about what has happened. Good day." With that, the man was gone. Carson closed the door after Napier, and his gaze shot directly to the woman.

Mary sensed the butler's concern for her, whereupon she smiled at him with no particular emotion. "Thank you for your help."

The situation was no less awkward for Carson than it was for Mary. He stiffened whilst he decided upon his response to her. "No such acknowledgement is necessary, milady. I cannot begin to imagine how your ladyship tolerated the night...and so I will not go any further with the matter." He started toward the library, but Mary followed him immediately and called, "Carson, wait!"

He turned his entire body, a shocked countenance present on his tired face. "Milady?" he urged. Mary inhaled, then exhaled heavily. Carson was startled by the young woman's loose expression of exhaust, but Mary meant to be relaxed with him. He had always been her number-one confidant, her trustworthy guardian and her beloved friend. He was, in several ways, the woman's father; but that was Mary's secret thought to maintain.

"I understand that this entire ordeal has been rather horrid for you."

He grunted before letting his opinion slide: "I doubt that my perception of this monstrosity amounts to anything in comparison to _your ladyship's _experience, milady."

"...That's all very well," continued Mary, "but..." She pressed her lips together, making every effort to conceal her worry, her grief, her _weakness._ "Oh, what am I to do, Carson? Even without Mr. Pamuk's embellishments to the story, I already look like...well, an irreverent, impure -"

"Everyone here knows that you are nothing of the sort, milady!" Carson declared with utter certainty. He watched helplessly as the young woman's composure persisted to decompose, whereupon he found the paternal need to comfort her: "What matters now is that the downstairs staff and your own family know what really happened, and that it was the...Mr. _Pamuk..._who forced such a dreadful situation on your ladyship..."

The older man stopped in his speech, for at that time Robert had been making his way toward the woman and the butler, who still stood between the entryway and the library. "Carson, I will need the car today," spoke he. "I have business with James Murray that cannot wait. I leave in an hour."

"Of course, milord," replied Carson respectfully, bowing his head slightly as the Earl of Grantham nodded and left. Mary took offence at her father's indifference about her presence. _But_ _Papa _is _preoccupied with tidying up this mess, _she reasoned. Still, it made her sad to watch her father disappear. For goodness' sake, the _butler_ was the man who accompanied her for moments longer!

"I hope that his lordship can solve this problem so that the public hears nothing of it," remarked Mary, tearing her mind away from its musings. Suddenly Mary's thoughts lay with her cousin who resided in Crawley House with his mother. "I wonder whether Matthew has heard about this..." She could have pinched herself for speaking such out loud; why on_ earth _would she wish to consider Matthew's state of mind at the moment? It was shameful to imagine that blonde-haired, blue-eyed man knowing about Pamuk's foul intentions!

"Perhaps he is unaware, milady," answered Carson after a moment's pause, "but if I were your ladyship, I would rejoice in that." This evoked a grin on the woman's pallid face. She thanked the older man for his comfort and support in her darkest hour, whereupon the man recognised that tons of work had to be done around the house. On a rather good note, the two parted ways.


	3. Chapter 3

Seldom did Mary thirst for company. Not until the third night following Pamuk's raucous leaving did Mary toss and turn in bed, recognising that the converse was true for her: she wanted company. She _needed _it.

...

A sunny morning greeted the woman as she stepped outside the house to an almost blinding beam of light radiating from the east. _I have - for too long - been kept in the confines of my room, the library, and the dining room, _realised she.

Thomas opened the car door for Lady Mary, whereupon she thanked him with a nod and reminded the footman, "I should not be home before ten."

"Very good, milady," responded Thomas with no particularly outstanding emotion. He shut the car door after her ladyship and stood statue-like as the vehicle disappeared from sight.

...

He had come to greet her. Mary thought such a move to be outlandish, but (then again) the man had come from Manchester. Matthew Crawley was not one of them; for he had - since birth - been accustomed to dressing, dining, _walking _on his own. Myriad servants simply did not exist in the middle class man's life, and it was evident by his boldly confident face out in the driveway that he was quite all right with self-dependence.

"I thought I'd not see you for another month," he admitted, helping her out of the car before the Crawley House butler could inch forward. Mary took his hand despite the rather surprising offer and landed with ease on the pavement. "How are you, Cousin Mary?" By this point, the butler had surrendered his duties to the stubborn Mr. Crawley.

"I cannot say I am unwell, because that would be selfish in the sight of God. After what has happened..." She continued in silence, reciprocating the gentle pattern of her cousin's strides.

"Of course," replied Matthew vaguely, wishing that his meeting with the woman had not resulted from unnerving circumstances. Nevertheless, he had worried about her from the moment at which the secretive news had hit his ears. _Mother's terrifying words still ring in my mind, _recalled he. The two approached the door to the modest abode, but both halted in their rhythmic walk to acknowledge one another. "It's such a relief to see you, and to know that you are..." He could not say "well", since the man understood that no maiden could feel "well" after a man tried to have his way with her.

"I feel the same way, after being compelled to remain indoors." She looked intently into Matthew's comforting, blue eyes. "Thank you for giving me a reason to get out."

Her cousin blushed. "Mother has also been aching to see you, so I couldn't take the credit entirely." Something had forced Matthew to gaze into her dark, receptive eyes; he suddenly felt discomfort from exposing himself so recklessly to her, whereupon the man politely invited her inside Crawley House.

They found Isobel in the parlour, sitting in an uncomfortable manner on the sofa with a recently-opened fashion magazine. When the older woman saw Mary from the corner of her eye, she exclaimed, "Cousin Mary! What a delight; Matthew and I had been utterly worried -"

"Mother, please don't wear her out," cut in Matthew abashedly. He scolded himself afterward for having interrupted his mother, who had only meant to express her concern and gratitude to the younger woman. Mary neared Isobel, who had already stood in anticipation for an embrace.

"Thank you for inviting me, Cousin Isobel," acknowledged Mary as she accepted the warm embrace.

"I thought we wouldn't have had the chance to see you - at least, not while the news is fresh."

Matthew chimed in. "That is what I told her, too."

"We still have told no one but the authorities who took him that night," assured Mary slowly. She had not compiled the courage to call "him" by his real name, though Isobel seemed not to mind. "My Aunt Rosamund will know as soon as Mama picks up pen and paper. But I don't believe anyone is quite revived from the stunning occurrence." She accepted Isobel's kind gesture to sit down, taking the seat whose back was to the yellow-curtained window.

Matthew still remained standing at the door, feeling much more awkward than that for which he would have settled. He snapped into focus when Mary had uttered the word "stunning", whereupon the young solicitor neared the fireplace to face the two women.

"I wondered, Cousin Mary, whether there was anything Mother and I could do to help at the house. Any paperwork, any errands that would hurry along the reporting process?"

Mary thanked Matthew and Isobel for their thoughtfulness. "No, but thank you. We are to write to the Turkish Embassy about the event, with signatures from the authorities - just in case there is disbelief about the whole thing."

"And to think," mused Isobel, "that the Turkish Embassy might do everything in its power to ensure that one of their own is not punished!" She shook her head, then returned her gaze to Mary, who smiled sadly. Truthfully, the younger woman could not know what to think about the situation, since she had led Pamuk on from beginning to end. _If it had not been for my suddenly sensible intuition to scream, I would have been in far deeper trouble with far more people right now._ What a disconcerting thought.

"I still believe we've got this Kemal Pamuk pinned to the ground," declared Matthew. His left leg was bent in accordance with his leaning on the mantel above the fireplace. "After all, the Earl of Grantham himself has witnessed this horrid man's sinful nature, and so there should be no questioning about whether this scandal is true." He had been staring at the ground, but now he locked eye contact with his mother in particular. "Why would Lord Grantham risk his reputation to create a scandal that wasn't true?"

"I agree with you, Matthew, but this is a serious scandal involving two countries." Isobel pressed her lips together in uncertainty.

"They might think we want to put down the Turkish Embassy for some outrageous reason," Mary theorised. "I can't even imagine what Kemal - what Mr. _Pamuk_ is planning right now. He and his friends are probably conspiring against me as we speak."

"I hope not," sighed Matthew. He stared at his cousin with sincerity and empathy, ardently wishing that she were not in this hellish situation. _Why her?_ he wondered aimlessly. Although he was more than thankful that she had screamed; Cora had sent a telegram explaining how the night had transpired.

The maid entered the room with a tray of biscuits and coffee. Mary obligingly accepted both items, although the conversation did nothing positive to strengthen her appetite. "Anyway," she began, eager to transition the topic into something of her cousins' daily lives. "How is everything at the hospital, Cousin Isobel?"

"Oh, fine," reported Isobel unenthusiastically. It was obvious that she was much more concerned about the aftermath of the scandal than her vocation.

"And you, Cousin Matthew?" pressed Mary, aware that she would be rather unsuccessful if she persisted with Isobel. "Has your occupation treated you well?"

"Actually, yes," the man answered with a smile. He grinned wider when he and Mary simultaneously noticed how oblivious Isobel was to the new conversation. The older woman stared blankly at the curtains, appearing upset that they had not yet been drawn. "Mother," called Matthew.

"Forgive me; I was..." Isobel needed not finish, because she experienced her son's and her cousin's amused laughter all at the same time. This comforted her momentarily, and she joined in, satisfied that her daydreaming had evoked such bright emotion in these two young people. _They look so...so wonderful together,_ realised Isobel. And she left it at that.


	4. Chapter 4

Anna stood in the doorframe to Mary's room. Her face was very grave. "What is it?" questioned Mary softly, alert by her maidservant's torn countenance.

Anna inhaled, walked through the doorframe, and clicked the door closed behind her. "There has been a letter -"

"From whom?" blurted the other, who from the start had sensed the relation between dear Anna's fear and foul Mr. Pamuk's actions.

Shivering in response to the demand to speak his name, Anna drew closer to Mary and whispered, "It's from the Turkish Ambassador, Mr. Kemal Pamuk."

"And where is this letter?"

Mary's trusted friend retrieved a slightly crumpled envelope from within the pile of clothing she had been holding. To Mary's dismay, the letter was addressed to her father. Anna handed it to Mary. "His Lordship has ordered that you read it."

"Thank you." Mary held out her hand to receive the lightweight paper, knowing all too well that her father's demand indicated that this message was of a rather heavyweight matter. She raucously pulled the letter out of the pre-opened envelope and stared at it for a moment. Anna suddenly thought that her own presence yielded Mary's hesitance, whereupon she suggested that she leave.

"No, Anna," corrected Lady Mary firmly. She lifted her head from the defaced paper and located the maid's eyes. "I would rather you were here for this, for I am sure his lordship would like to be reunited with this letter."

"Very well, milady." Anna stood in silence as Mary read the following writing in her shaking hands:

_Lord Grantham,_

_After my dismissal from the Yorkshire prison, I informed the Turkish Embassy of your foul treatment of me. Should it be your utmost desire to protest my report, please know that I have a credible witness who has signed the report papers._

_You must try not to search for me; I have been commissioned to go on a trip to America, and I shall return not for a year._

_Let this letter be nothing more than a warning, for I wish not to compel your eldest daughter to a scandal - not as much, at least, as I wish to send you the punishment you deserve for my irreverent, unjust arrest._

_-Kemal Pamuk, Ambassador for the Turkish Embassy_

Mary had gasped at the word "witness". When she finished reading the letter, Anna asked, "What is it, milady?"

"Mr. Napier must have been... No, how could he have...?" The woman who had invited Evelyn Napier cringed at the thought of the man's betrayal. "Anna, Mr. Pamuk tells us here that some witness has signed his papers of protest. I don't want to believe -"

"That it was Mr. Napier?" Anna broke in, so interested in the family affair that she apologised shortly after her questioning. Mary pardoned her maidservant.

"But I wonder..." began Lady Mary, shifting her gaze from Anna's soft blue eyes to the overpowering sunlight that shone through the windows. Mary started toward the windows, her mind aching to view the abbey's exterior - just below the window in her room - in order to visualise that morning. The morning on which Mr. Evelyn Napier had offered his apologies - sincere or not, Mary could not know now - and the morning on which he had departed Downton. "I wonder whether Evelyn released Mr. Pamuk from prison."

"I hate to admit it, milady," confessed Anna, "but that sounds the most logical. Did...Mr. Pamuk tell you when he was released?"

"No, but it certainly wasn't yesterday," replied Mary Crawley. _No,_ she imagined, _he would not have had time to write the report to the Turkish Embassy._ Her thoughts trailed back to the respectable gentleman who had brought Kemal with him. "But to think...that Mr. _Napier...!"_

Mary had begun to remove of her afternoon attire. Anna neared her and began to retrieve the shoes, then the stockings, then the dress. "I cannot know what to think of it," continued Mary solemnly. "They were both such _nice_ people."

Indeed, they had been such amiable additions to the hunting party. But as Anna thought more and more about the downstairs activity on the night following the hunt, she recalled a figure returning from the upstairs realm with a two-inch candle. A candle and a much-frightened face.


	5. Chapter 5

"Mr. Napier, milady."

"Thank you, Carson." Evelyn Napier tentatively unveiled himself from behind the library door. Mary inhaled heavily, not one bit delighted to discuss with the man the dire situation at hand.

"Lady Mary," acknowledged the man.

"Evelyn." The Crawley daughter moved a foot forward, but nothing more. She looked around the room during a moment of awkward silence, studying with unusually rapt attention her father's vast collection of novels and informational texts. Before she could turn her eyes back to her guest, Evelyn admitted something that caught Mary off-guard.

"I believe I know why you have summoned me here."

"Oh?" Mary studied the slight grin that appeared on the man's face. _He always seems to succeed at being off-beat, _she recognised, understanding Mr. Napier to be the one to chuckle ignorantly at the most grave piece of information.

Evelyn took a step forward - so that the sun no longer blinded him from seeing Mary's pale face. "I have a feeling that you believe I informed the Turkish Embassy of my friend Kemal Pamuk's interactions with you."

One word struck Mary hard. "So he's still your friend?"

Napier's eyebrows raised as he realised what he had uttered. "No, no, Mary, I only meant... Never mind that, it's just -"

"Do you mean to tell me that you were not the source of the scandal's exposure? Because I can't picture anyone else freeing Pamuk from prison either." At this, both Mary and Evelyn felt that their relationship had gone up in flames. _He is no suitor of mine, _thought the woman with certainty. _Not even were he to be free from this sin. After this, I could never marry him._ To her good fortune, neither of her parents would be able to allow marriage, either.

Evelyn kept his calm, even despite the immediate collapse of his formerly relaxed bond with Lady Mary Crawley. Now she was but a stranger to him. "I might surprise you if I inform you of Pamuk's rescuer, but in doing so I only mean to protect your family."

"How do I know that you are not pretending?" inquired Mary, skeptical beyond measure. She did not want to see this man anymore. He merely stood there, shocked by her circumspection.

"Well…" Evelyn licked his lips apprehensively and then locked eyes with the young woman. "You will have to trust me when I say that I would never wish to impose such a scandal and its aftermath upon your family. By "never", I mean that I would die first. Our families have known one another for so long, Mary, and so I could never -"

This speech had come out of the blue, and Mary could not bear it - mostly because it was too sentimental, and the sentimentality emanated from a man. She was tired of men…with the exception of one. "Just tell me who you think it was," she sighed.

Evelyn turned his head toward the library door behind him. "I should close it," he proposed.

"Whatever for? Is someone from this house not supposed to hear the truth?"

"It's not that, exactly," confessed Evelyn, "but it does involve one in your staff."

Mary gasped. For some reason she had begun to believe the sincerity and seriousness in Mr. Napier's voice. "Who?" she questioned, starting toward the door and closing it. It sealed the spacious room shut with a click.

"It was Thomas Barrow, one of your footmen."

"_What?" _gasped Mary once more, her hands clasping her mouth at the end of her interrogative. Her voice was muffled when she next spoke: _"Thomas_ freed him? How?"

Evelyn motioned to Mary, urging her to sit down with him on the nearby sofas. They took their seats, both staring so interestedly at one another. Mary could hardly breathe.

Finally Evelyn answered the woman's question: "Thomas and Kemal had a little agreement, apparently. That was all that Kemal told me, but I feel there's more to the tale. I didn't wish to reveal such unnerving news to you, Mary, but there must be something we can do with this bit of information."

"Certainly, yes," agreed Mary, "and it begins with Papa sacking Thomas! _Heavens!"_ The woman was still awestruck and open-mouthed. She strangely imagined Matthew there beside her, and he - in this fantasy of hers - was comforting her. Perhaps they were meters apart, but Mary felt in her mind as if this perfect picture included Matthew's soft touch, his _lips,_ even… Almost like a strong and beautiful assurance to her that there was someone who was on her side. And she needed that assurance.

"Well," began Evelyn, getting up from the sofa reluctantly (for it had been most comforting to him at this dark hour). "I shouldn't disturb you for any moment longer. Thomas Barrow will most likely know more on the matter, so I should hope you and your family succeed in interrogating him." Mary had started to get up from her seat, but Evelyn held his hand out and told her, "No. I will ring for your butler. You must ask him to bring Lord Grantham here, so that you can inform him of this. It is imperative that he must know before anything else transpires."

Mr. Napier held out his hand once again, but this time it was shaped in preparation to shake the woman's hand cordially. Mary acted upon this gesture, and Evelyn smiled sadly at her. Part of him melted at the sight of her weak figure, her dissatisfied countenance, her worried nature. But he shrugged such feelings off of his mind and nodded to her. "I will ring, then."

Mary had nothing to add. She merely watched as the man reached out to pull on the long rope that connected to the servants' hall downstairs.

Once Charles Carson had arrived in the library - he had found it unusually inaccessible, which resulted in his knocking at the door - Evelyn Napier bid the woman farewell. "And Carson," he added, "I do not need anyone to see me out." He gazed perfectly upon Mary for a fleeting moment, then proceeded: "We have had a rather informal meeting. I shall walk to the village station and take the four o'clock train to London. So if you both will excuse me…"

The man bowed his head to Mary and nodded to Carson, who stood with his head held high. Mr. Napier was, in an instant, out of sight.

Mary got up from the sofa and faced Carson. "Please send in Papa, Carson. I must speak to him; it's about something that Mr. Napier has confessed to me."

It was perhaps out of Carson's place to question the young woman further, but the butler nevertheless asked, "Had he anything to say regarding the great matter, milady?"

"Yes, but I can say with some relief that he is not the cause of the scandal reaching the Turkish Embassy. No," Mary declared, pondering the conversation with Evelyn as she stared at the floor. "He is not to blame."

"Might I ask whether he told you who it was?" Carson pressed, knowing better than to persist with Lady Mary; yet he felt it his duty to stand by the young woman at this time.

Carson's question startled her. Mary pursed her lips together and quickly requested, "I would like for his lordship to know before anything else, if you don't mind, Carson."

"I am sorry, milady. I should not have acted as if I _were_ his lordship."

Mary looked at Carson for a long moment, during which the butler wondered whether she would admonish or dismiss him after his apology. But she smiled genially at him. "If not for the damned rules of the aristocracy, Carson, I would _want_ you to ask such questions."

Against his will - as a butler to a highly respectable, highly _aristocratic_ household - Charles Carson grinned at her.


	6. Chapter 6

That night the abbey reignited its festivities with a family dinner commencing after the arrival of Matthew and Isobel Crawley and the Dowager Countess of Grantham. Mary had not been able to relay Evelyn Napier's news to anyone since the man's departure from Downton, but she was determined to inform her father and Cousin Matthew - that is, if the latter would agree to become involved. He would be thrilled, but she simply did not know it yet.

For the first time since the evening after the hunt, Downton's glimmering beauty enveloped every level of the big house. From the kitchen downstairs to Lady Sybil's upstairs bedroom, chandeliers and lit lamps and candles consumed the atmosphere in every corner of the abbey; and everyone, acting in accordance to the more upright tone of the evening, made haste to prepare for the day's final repast. It was a long hour - from seven to eight o'clock - of plates being carried cautiously but with great speed to the dining room, of hairpins being placed gently but with immense excitement for the night, of dinner jackets being buttoned and of ties being fastened.

Lady Edith Crawley watched admiringly as her sister Sybil drew near the end of the staircase. "You look lovely," complimented she, beaming at the sibling who appeared so elegant, so grown up.

Sybil blushed as her eyes kept their attention on the last few steps. When she finished, her gaze turned upward to acknowledge Edith. "And the very same to you. I adore that colour on you, my dear; it's gorgeous."

Flattered - but not the least bit surprised by her sister's generosity - Edith smiled and reached out to take Sybil's hand. "Granny is here; we had better pay her some attention, else we will never hear the end of it." She pursed her lips in an effort to turn serious, but the younger sibling chuckled. "Of course," affirmed Sybil. They made their way to the drawing room.

...

It was not Mary's strongest desire to sit next to Matthew when, at last, the family had settled in the dining room; nevertheless, it had happened, and she was not about to complain. Not that she wished to be rid of his company; no, that certainly was not the case. Mary still felt _awkward_ about being so near a man of her age, and haunting thoughts about what Pamuk had whispered to her in the library on the cursed night - _"Can I come to you tonight?"_ - disturbed her mind beyond measure. As one of the side dishes appeared on a platter so close to her that she could very well have bumped her head, Mary heard her father's voice address her:

"Who came by in the afternoon, Mary?"

Carson stiffened, unsure as to why Mary had not yet informed her father about Napier's vital visit. "A friend of mine, Papa," came the Crawley daughter's vague response. Out of the corner of her eye, Mary noticed Thomas's body become suddenly tense. _Oh God, _Mary prayed in her head, _let not my father press me further, for the sake of the family._ She wanted not to cause unneeded tension between the family and the staff (some of whom could have been considered to be family).

Robert did, however, question Mary further. "But this friend, Mary, did she ask about the papers? I hate those reporters, they always manage to collect personal information about their subject of interest."

The eldest Crawley daughter locked eyes involuntarily with the butler for a fleeting moment, then chuckled. _Dear Papa, he thinks this friend was a young woman. _"Papa, please let us discuss this after dinner, so that our poor family can be spared the dullness of the topic."

"Yes, please, Papa," Sybil chimed in. "After all, I wanted to ask Cousin Isobel about her profession." This was enough to interest the nurse from Manchester. Cora and Violet exchanged surprised glances at one another - something that never occurred among the two opposites.

"Please do, Sybil dear," Isobel welcomed warmly. Sybil gleamed with excitement and soon there were multiple conversations at the table. One of them belonged to Matthew and Mary.

"How have you gotten along since last I saw you?" asked Matthew. He reached for his glass and took a sip of the wine, maintaining eye contact with his cousin. Mary sighed softly and responded:

"Not much has happened, but at least there isn't _too _much happening. After the hunt, I felt a hunger for leisure time. Still, whatever leisure time I've attained has not met my expectations." She shot him a glance, just to see whether he was intently listening. To her slightest amazement, he was completely engrossed in her speech.

"Of course not. God knows how much has been on your mind."

"Amen to that." She grinned at him and took a bite from her plate. Matthew tried not to stare at her too long, for he could already feel the compelling force between them. It was painful for him not to kiss her then and there, in front of everyone so as to make a public statement that he loved her so dearly. As soon as she noticed his peculiar stare, Matthew snapped out of his imaginings.

"Have you considered taking my offer to help you? Only, of course, if you could use it," he added. She turned solemn as he had uttered this. _Count on Cousin Matthew to bring it back to reality._ But she was not feeling upset by his assertion. Just anxious.

"As a matter of fact, I have -"

A voice from the opposite side of the table interrupted her: "...have him all to yourself, Mary. That isn't fair."

It was Edith. "Mary?" she called, recognising her sister's obliviousness to her primary question. Matthew lifted his body back into its upright position; he and Mary had unconsciously been leaning in to talk, and immediately after Mary realised this, she knew why Edith had complained.

"We were discussing business, Edith. Is that a criminal act?"

"Now, my dear," reasoned Mary's grandmother, "Edith has a point. Cousins are to share among all. Unless one believes matrimony is further down the line," she muttered lastly, turning back to her plate. Robert, who sat next to his mother - and who had been swallowing his wine - almost chocked as he heard this. "Mama," he admonished Violet, "please."

For the remainder of the meal, Mary sulked as her sisters engaged cheerfully in conversations between Cousins Matthew and Isobel alike. Cora knew not to ask Mary what was wrong - mostly because she thought it was something regarding the similarly joyful dinner involving Mr. Kemal Pamuk - and therefore the Countess of Grantham smiled sadly as she pondered the misfortunes that the past many months had inflicted upon her eldest daughter.

...

The evening had ended shortly after the meal, which was rather odd for an aristocratic dinner. No cigars for the men in the dining room, and no games for the women in the drawing room: tonight was different. Mary had caught her father as soon as the Countess of Grantham had suggested that the women go into the drawing room. She had begged, "Papa, I must speak to you and Matthew. I learned something this afternoon from Evelyn Napier; it cannot wait."

Robert had then called for Matthew to remain at Downton - as Mary had predicted the discussion would be lengthy - while Isobel and the Dowager departed.

The two men whom Mary had requested were now in the library. Matthew paced back and forth, anticipating the worst of news. Had Pamuk spread a handful of lies across Europe? Had there been a threat on Downton, on its inhabitants, on _Mary?_

"Matthew, I am afraid that will do nothing to ease your nerves," assured Robert. The younger man's face turned a faint shade of red, and Matthew took his cousin's advice, seating himself on the left-hand sofa. It was warm in the library. _Where is Mary?_ he began to ask himself anxiously.

After one minute, Mary appeared. Matthew jetted out of his seat to stand tall, respecting the woman's entry. She smiled at him before proceeding toward her father and her cousin. "I'm so sorry. I had to say goodbye to Cousin Isobel and Granny."

Matthew fought the urge to chuckle. _Her sincerity about the smallest of grievances is adorable._ "There is no need to apologise, Cousin Mary."

"How silly of me; of course you're right." She walked forward and took a seat next to her father, directly across from Matthew. There was a slight moment at which the two young adults merely stared at one another, almost unconsciously.

"All right, then," broke in Robert, not quite enjoying the extraneous dialogue between Matthew and Mary. "Evelyn Napier came by this afternoon, revealing to you..."

"He knows who was responsible for validating Mr. Pamuk's charges against Downton."

"And are you certain that he was being honest?"

"Yes, Papa." Mary was not about to roll her eyes at her father, because that would have been overly foolish and extremely childish. But she did have an air of testiness with her following announcement: "I would not have summoned you and Cousin Matthew here if I had thought Mr. Napier's information to be untrustworthy."

Matthew perked up after the room was silent for a moment: "Whose name did he give?"

"Thomas Barrow's. Our footman."

"Good God in Heaven!" exclaimed the Earl of Grantham, standing up from the sofa. He towered over Mary now, and she could only look him in the eyes and nod. "Thomas? Why on _earth -"_

"Mr. Napier knows nothing more, Papa, but the footman _did_ attend to Pamuk during his stay."

"Shouldn't we inform the authorities before we interrogate Thomas?" asked Matthew in wonder. He turned his head from Robert to Mary and received no immediate response. "I don't know what to say, except that we mustn't allow the footman a chance to flee Downton. He could very well understand his dangerous position in this situation."

"Yes, but why him? I cannot digest that he... For heaven's sake, he _served _us in the dining room! I thought I had employed loyal servants!"

The Earl was irritable now, and so Mary decided to spare Cousin Matthew the headache and to allow the young man to leave. After yet another minute of hearing Robert's aimless complaints, Mary won her father's consent to see Matthew out of the library. They walked out of the room on a quiet note, neither of them looking up from the ground until Carson opened the front door for Matthew.

Mary stepped out with him accidentally, having been engrossed in her own thoughts about the situation, and about her cousin who stood before her. "Er... You don't have to -"

"Eh hem." Carson was trying to snap Mary out of her thoughtful state. The woman looked alarmingly at Matthew. "Sorry," she whispered. Matthew grinned.

"I wish we could walk back." He had wanted to add the word "together" to that declaration, but nothing slipped from his mesmerised mouth. _I can hardly keep my speech from sounding awkward, _he realised. "Forgive me; it was foolish of me to suggest that..."

But Mary frowned. His statement had only reminded her of Pamuk's seductive ways, a disturbance far from anything that Matthew had intended to suggest. He likewise frowned; his shoulders sank. "Mary, I apologise...for all of this. I shouldn't be so open -"

"No," she stopped him. He had begun to approach the car, inside which its driver waited patiently. "I was not reacting to you - not directly."

"But I was being insensitive."

"Matthew," she started. His breathing halted for a few seconds as he swallowed her imperative expression, her beautiful and sorrowful dark eyes, her pale-turned-pink complexion. At last Mary continued. "You are the last person on this earth whom I could dare to call 'insensitive'. The very last. I hope that I have not made you feel...uncomfortable or hurt..."

"Mary, it _comforts_ me to be with you." He regretted it when and after he had told her so. They stood in the warm evening atmosphere for moments more. Then he quickly told her, "Good night," and rushed inside the automobile. The man from Manchester knew that he had played his cards far too early, and he was more than sorry for it. Mary respectfully remained outside until Matthew Crawley's car vanished from sight in the blinding summer moonlight, but her heart had wanted to rush somewhere, too. She could not process his words properly or correctly: _it comforts me to be with you._ Was he truly admitting to his appreciation of her company? _I fear that if I trust men, my life will end up the way it could have done, had...had Pamuk taken advantage of me..._

His affectionate words were enough to haunt the already haunted Crawley daughter that night.

Sadly enough, Matthew Crawley was haunted by her love that night, too.


	7. Chapter 7

Thomas's "special leave of absence" had given to everyone downstairs deep suspicions. Some believed the reason for the footman's absence had its roots in Mr. Kamal Pamuk's visit, but the imaginative staff members had designed several different explanations. "Perhaps he's going to be sacked," supposed the house maid, Gwen, "because he's not been the most honourable to the guests. Perhaps he treated Mr. Pamuk very wrongly."

"Yes, but why would that matter to Lord Grantham?" Sara O'Brien countered. "His lordship's got enough anger for the Turkish man to fill up a steam engine!" A few who were sitting in the servants' hall laughed at this, but Mr. Carson held out his hand and chastised, "You all should know better than to speak of his lordship in such a way! Let us not forget what pain Mr. Pamuk has inflicted upon the family." He turned to Mrs. Hughes, who both nodded in agreement and opened her mouth to speak.

"And _we_ are all family, might I remind you!" she added, choosing to make eye contact with those who had chuckled earlier. "There's no doubt about that. Now, let's all _behave_ like family and keep it to ourselves!"

...

The matter could not be kept to any oneself, however. Days following the footman's temporary arrest - an arrest for which he was convicted of serious disloyalty and treason to his employer - the "Crawley-Pamuk" scandal was all over the country. Mary absolutely detested it, but Matthew kept her company every afternoon until the Thomas Barrow's trial. "It must get tiring," he reasoned, taking an intermission in their strides across Downton's rolling hills. "If I had my name boldfaced across the headline of every newspaper..." He chuckled softly, and she looked up at him. The sun was bright behind the man, but she squinted so as to see his cheery blue eyes. "I would definitely lock myself in my room."

Mary laughed at his remark, and she added, "I wish I could flee to America to wait this out. Actually," she grinned at Matthew, "I take that back. Nothing would be more arduous of a task than to stay with Grandmama in her native land."

"Is she really that tiresome?" he asked her, leading the two of them again toward a bench underneath a nearby tree. The wind was calm; indeed, it was a boiling, summer day, and Mary wished - for a fleeting moment - that they would return to the indoors.

But she was enjoying Matthew's company. It was a sweet sort of time for her, one during which she needed not worry about what others thought of her: that she was nothing but a heartless, spoiled and proud young woman (this was how Mary perceived it). _Thank goodness, _she thought, _that this is not one of those tense moments._ She certainly did feel more relaxed around Matthew now, but she was reluctant to attribute this change in emotion to the night on which he had expressed (too much of?) his feelings to her.

And _that_ had not even been completely bold or obvious; Mary had found herself, on that particular night, in a quandary as of what to think of Cousin Matthew from Manchester. But she pushed these musings aside when they had approached the bench. "Here." Matthew offered his hand to her and she took it gladly, using his body for support as she lowered herself onto the wooden bench. He afterward bent down to seat himself next to her, leaving enough space between them. "So, Cousin Mary," he began, turning his head to the left to face her, "are you looking forward to the village carnival?" She appeared extraordinarily radiant in her wide-brimmed, ribbon-laced hat. "Because I was thinking... You see, Mother does not want to go. And I figured that I had better have someone to accompany me, just in case I get lost." Mary chuckled at this, whereupon he laughed as well and confirmed, "Although I've lived here for a decent amount of time, I've hardly met anyone."

He stared at her, finding no luck at trying to read her stolid countenance. But she spoke before he had lost all hope: "To be honest, I had thought about avoiding it this year. But now I think I will go; it's the same every year, but there is always some fun in showing it to those who have never been." Mary ended with a friendly smile, one that did not suggest to Matthew that she was taking the news in a way he had hoped she would. But who was he to get upset at her confirmation to accompany him? "Thank you," he replied simply, not wanting any bit of disappointment to divert his speech. She leaned back slightly in her seat and smiled again.

Matthew sighed. _Why has everything suddenly become _different_ between us?_ His troubled state of mind came through loud and clear to the young woman. "Cousin Matthew? Is the heat tiring you out? I can't lie and say it hasn't affected me," she confessed, taking off her hat to look at it. She was beginning to feel awkward, and she wanted something to do with her hands.

To their relief, the butler came rushing over to them from the southwest direction. Mary had first spotted Carson at the corner of her eye. When at last the older man stood before them, she greeted him: "Hello, Carson. Is her ladyship calling for me? I've lost track of time." Matthew shuffled uneasily in his seat, while Carson took a deep breath to regain oxygen. "Milady, it's Thomas. They..."

It happened very suddenly, but the event had nonetheless alarmed both Crawleys. Mary had interjected, "Carson!" whilst the butler sank to the ground. It was then that Matthew noticed how pale and sweaty the older man truly was.

Matthew jolted into action. "Mary, go and get William! I can't get him up."

Mary wanted to sit there by Carson, her other father, her loyal friend. But her legs obeyed Cousin Matthew's command and she responded with, "Please remain with him."

"Of course," assured Matthew, but he knew that concern had predominated his cousin's speech. _I certainly _hope _she believes I would never let someone in such a state alone, _he thought to himself. Turning back to the man who had blacked out on the grass, Matthew asked, "Do you hear me, Carson? It's Mr. Crawley. Mary has -" he stopped for a moment. _If he _can_ hear me, would he care that I address Mary so informally?_ Matthew soon shook his head, making up his mind. "Mary will be back very soon with William. You are going to be in good hands."

And then Matthew heard a shout. His head shot up in alarm.

Just beyond him was a figure in black, footman clothing. The man sprinted away from the abbey, as if he were being chased by a pack of hunting dogs. "Oh, God," Matthew whispered.

Matthew prayed for Mary's quick return.


	8. Chapter 8

Charles Carson consumed Mary's thoughts. She darted across the grass, past the paved driveway, and through the abbey's front door; it was perhaps the fastest pace she had ever dared to take in her tricky attire and shoes. _But I don't care,_ decided she, turning her head from left to right, searching for someone - anyone - who could help the beloved butler.

"Mama?" she called, her feet moving her toward the library, then stopping suddenly, then turning back toward the staircase. _What am I to do?_ she wondered in her moment of apparent helplessness.

Just when Mary had resolved to return and help Matthew, Edith appeared in front of the library. The Countess of Grantham was behind her, and both stared at Mary's dishevelled figure in astonishment. "What on earth is going on?" wondered Edith, approaching her exhausted sister at once. Cora followed her daughter.

"Carson has fallen faint. Cousin Matthew is out there with him, but he needs William to carry Carson with him."

"I'll find William," announced Edith. After she was gone, Cora suggested, "We should return to Matthew and Carson. Perhaps the three of us could lift him back here -"

"But surely we should notify Dr. Clarkson?" Mary asked. The Countess of Grantham shook her head.

"It would take too long to walk over to the hospital. No, let us go now to help Matthew. We should bring water." Cora disappeared momentarily for the dining room. Mary whispered, _Please, Lord, let him be all right. Please..._

"Mary," Cora called after a minute, holding the pitcher of water from that morning's breakfast. "Ready?"

...

Matthew Crawley stared at the distant fields and forests in worry. _Thomas must have broken out of the prison...but why?_ That question seemed to ring in the man's ears until he turned around to the voices of Cousin Mary and Cousin Cora. "Where is William?" he asked immediately, not about to assume that these two women were to assist him with carrying the unconscious butler.

Mary shook her head. "Edith's gone to find him. It may take too long for the footman to arrive, so Mama and I will help instead."

Cora kept her calm as she neared Carson and lifted the man's upper body. "Matthew, would you try to hold him while I pour the water? His body appears to be overheated." She gestured for Mary to kneel down and help Matthew with supporting Carson's body. Cora cupped her hand and reached into the glass pitcher for a handful of cool water; once she had it, the woman poured it slowly on the butler's forehead. She repeated the process until Carson's entire face appeared drenched.

"Carson, it's Mary," the eldest Crawley daughter spoke loudly. "We are going to take you back now. Please hear me." As those words escaped her mouth, she felt Matthew's arm on her shoulder blade. His touch was comforting; she exhaled softly and revelled in the moment of Matthew's closeness. But Cora soon prompted her daughter, "You and Matthew should lift him a little more. Let's see if that helps."

Matthew obeyed, nodding to Mary before they both worked to ease Carson's head and chest up from the ground. Cora held her hand to the butler's forehead, which she found to be slightly cooler than it had been minutes ago. "Carson, can you hear me?"

There was a muffled grunt, then a reviving inhalation of breath; in seconds the butler's eyes and ears were back to full function. Mary smiled. Matthew sighed in relief. "Thank goodness. Carson, would you like some more water?"

The butler groggily looked in awe at Matthew. "Mr. Crawley...what...what has happened, that I am lying here like a child?" Mary could not help but to chuckle.

"Carson, you fell faint. Mr. Crawley and I were here when you arrived with something to say -"

"Thomas," he blurted out suddenly. "The footman. He - he has escaped...the prison."

"What?" Cora interjected, frowning. Matthew thought it his time to explain:

"After Mary left, I...I saw the footman running away from here. He was -"

Carson coughed, whereupon Mary brought the mouth of the pitcher to the butler's mouth and soothed him, "Drink some water. You will feel better."

He looked at her, a glint of both admiration and pride in his glossy eyes. Then Carson drank, and unashamedly so: for, in mere moments, the entire glass was empty!

But Cora was bewildered still by Matthew's confirmation. "Do you mean to say that Thomas has, in fact, escaped? How could he have done?"

"It is not impossible," thought Matthew logically. "The authorities are bound to get here soon; I am certain that his absence will not go unnoticed."

"Certainly not," agreed Mary, retrieving the empty pitcher from Carson's grasp and setting it down in the grass. "But why has he taken that risk? He has been charged for disloyalty to Papa. Should that not scare him enough?"

Matthew got up from the ground. "Perhaps he thinks he can elude it. After all, hasn't he bargained with trouble before?"

Carson finally decided to offer his own perspective. "If I may, Thomas is...unafraid to reveal his opinions. He can be childish, but usually he thinks things through before execution. If he is truly guilty of supporting Mr. Pamuk -" Mary and Matthew helped the butler gently up from the ground - "then the authorities must act quickly."

Cora made eye contact with Carson, her countenance grave. "His lordship is with Mr. Murray at the moment, but I shall send them a telegraph as soon as we arrive back at the house. I'm sorry, Carson," she added with sincerity, "we've forgotten that you are in need of medical assistance! Shall I take you -"

There was one thing that Charles Carson never wished to be: a nuisance. "I'm sure I'll be fine, milady, if we could just take the walk slowly." He winced for a moment as his legs started their first strides toward the abbey. Mary was concerned for Carson, but she knew not to upset him by asking any more questions. _He will be fine, so long as we make him lie down for the rest of the day. Which is a lucky chance,_ she mused, smiling as he continued ahead of her.

"What a day this has proven to be." Mary turned around violently to find Cousin Matthew there, grinning though the day had, in fact, been a rough one. "Sorry, I thought you knew -"

"Forgive me," apologised the young woman, "I have been tossed and turned for much longer than I'd hoped, and I..." She could not finish because, before she could blink, Matthew Crawley had placed his hands on her crossed arms, rubbing his thumbs back and forth in steady rhythm. His eyes were ablaze with passion, and she could feel her heart beating dramatically in her chest as he spoke these words:

"I care for you, Mary."

She stood there, not wanting him to let go, not daring to speak - for she had learned that to speak could turn everything upside-down, and she did not wish to make that mistake with Matthew Crawley. He was too precious.

"I know it's a bold thing to say, especially to someone who thought me a monster from Greek mythology..." His eyes held their focus upon Mary's blushing face. "But it's true: I admire you for many things, one of them being your loyalty to those among you."

Mary frowned. "But haven't you heard? I don't have a heart. What makes you believe otherwise?" Her tone of voice was not in the least bit challenging; rather, she asked for his honest opinion, because she wanted to know whether he was being honest. Kemal Pamuk had confessed his love unto her a week prior, but his words had been a lie: they had not matched his true nature as a man of lust and adventurous intentions.

Matthew, however, did not seem to be a man of lust. He shook his head and announced, "I don't agree with them. Perhaps the best thing that I got out of Pamuk's sin is this: you are strong. You knew what your choices were when he went into room that night, and you chose the smarter option, despite the immediate humiliation that option has caused. I admire that, Mary."

Her eyes trailed past his face and toward the horizon. Blue skies and a calming breeze. When her gaze reverted to Matthew, she wondered, _Why does everything suddenly seem so wonderful? Am I dreaming?_ "Is this real?" she asked him, merely wondering and not at all suspicious.

Matthew looked down at the ground and then back at Mary. "Perhaps I have spoken out of turn. I realise now that this is a delicate time for you, and that this must be too much to swallow."

"Matthew, you don't know how happy I am to have your support. You have flattered me, and I am truly moved by your confession, but please let's allow nothing to change between us. At least, not now." The woman smiled warmly, eager to evoke positive emotion from him. Instead, her cousin recognised that Mary was not about to welcome him into her arms, as he had desperately hoped. He nodded, smiled unemotionally at her, and they began their journey back to the abbey in unintentional silence.

**To Be Continued - Expect Update Before 7 July  
**


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